


Ní neart go chur le chéile (together we achieve)

by lady_smellen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Better Together: A FitzSimmons Partnered Exchange, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, One Shot, an origin story (of sorts), implied sexy-times, lifeguard AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_smellen/pseuds/lady_smellen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz and Jemma simultaneously rolled off the board to kneel on the ground. Leaning down to loosen the rope tied around her torso, he passed a quick glance toward Jemma, catching her puzzled expression, ‘the fins are gone from the underside, s’why it’s level, we can use it to support her during CPR, if needed’.</p>
<p>Taking heed of his words, Jemma nodded at Fitz to turn the girl onto her back, while she scooted to the opposite side of the board. She bent over to check if the girl was breathing, ‘needed’, she informed Fitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ní neart go chur le chéile (together we achieve)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etoilesdeglace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilesdeglace/gifts), [newbie93](https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/gifts).



> So this is my BT Exchange gift for tumblr users etoilesdeglace and silfp. Thank you so much for your amazing prompt, it was a welcomed break from all the hydra angst I've been writing on the side and it was so much fun to play around with our beach/pool headcanons. It also kind of turned into an AU in which Fitzsimmons have passable communication skills, are significantly ballsier and where accidental implied sexy-times occur. 
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderfully weird its-nora-borealis and my equally weird partner afitzsimmonsblog (see end notes for declarations of love). 
> 
> And please excuse the irish title, but I was still searching for one when the announcment was made on the legalisation of same sex marriage. I'm proud of my country and my highschool's motto seemed very fitting for Fitzsimmons. It also means 'there is not strength, without unity'.

**The night before the programme starts:**

Jemma stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling, the fact she had been awake for almost 24 hours, and had to be up in another 6, in no way impaired her conversation skills. She had been excitedly chatting with Bobbi, her roommate for the summer, since they’d met at dinner. It was a pure stroke of luck that they were bunking together, Bobbi seemed to gravitate towards Jemma from the moment she set foot in the door of the academy. Of course, she disputed this fact, and said it was _all in Jemma’s head_ , even though all she did was make a passing joke to fill an awkward silence. Yet here they were an hour later, playfully bickering across the room from their respective beds.

‘What can I say? I have an affinity for British accents’, Bobbi stated. Jemma rolled her eyes at that, but knowing in the darkness she wouldn’t be seen, she let out an exasperated hum. In fairness, as far as roommates go, Jemma was quite content to be stuck with Bobbi. Yes, she looked like the stereotypical blonde bombshell, sun kissed to perfection by the Californian sun that she’d been warned to expect. But she wasn’t nearly as intimidating or dim-witted as she had imagined.

‘Actually you might have some competition for my affections’, Bobbi teased.

That one garnered a laugh from Jemma. She turned over on to her side, pulling the sheet with her. She could just barely make the out faintest silhouette under the covers at the other side of the room. ‘Is that so?’

She asked it rather sarcastically, but she was quite intrigued to find out whether Bobbi was just having her on, or if there _actually_ was somebody else who travelled that far for the prestigious lifeguarding course.

Bobbi jumped into explanation, not leaving Jemma much time to ponder. ‘Yeah, there’s a guy about our age rooming with my friend Trip. Scottish’, she chirped before thinking better of it. ‘Well, I think but he doesn’t have that strong of an accent so who can be sure?’ Jemma’s eyebrows thread together at that. There was bound to be other international students on an _international_ programme, but she’d have thought the network would mention another from so close to her.

‘He’s cute too. I think the both of you are going to get along well. He _does_ seem like a bit of a dork.’

She let out an indignant scoff. ‘Really Bob? I’ve only known you for the best part of 4 hours and all you’ve done is damage my ego!’

Jemma heard a rustling coming from the other side of the room, and in the dim light she could make out Bobbi spinning onto her back. ‘Is that so?’ She mocked in an alarmingly bang-on English accent. However, she hastily added, ‘and don’t call me Bob, that’s a guy’s name’.

She must have heard Jemma’s breathy, not very well concealed chuckles, because she chastised, ‘it’s _exclusively_ a guy’s name’.

‘Whatever, it sticks until you change your tune.’ It sounded like a proposition but it really didn’t bother Jemma. She had never experienced this kind of easy going banter so soon after meeting someone. However, the longer it took Bobbi to reply the more worried Jemma grew that she had already stuck her foot in it.

‘You know what? I like you.’ _Well that was a relief._ She smiled to herself thinking she must have passed some sort of test.

After the steady flow of conversation settled, the room fell in to a companionable silence, and her thoughts drifted to what the summer held. It hadn’t been easy, but Jemma just got her master’s in synthetic biology and chemistry from Cambridge University, and at nineteen she felt that a summer in California was a well-deserved break. Of course she meant that in the loosest manner possible, because it was still an incredible opportunity to strengthen her CV. And Jemma Simmons would never pass up the opportunity to improve on something she loved, while hopefully saving a few lives in the process. She also couldn’t dampen the nerves she felt, at the thought of trying to make so many first impressions tomorrow. She had a tendency to ramble, and the last thing she wanted was to squander any chance of getting along with her peers. Especially the one person who might have a similar taste of what it’s like to be homesick. She already missed the sound of rain easing her into sleep.

Suddenly, she was coaxed from her thoughts as she heard the soft mumble of, ‘Good night English.’ Jemma took that as her cue to nod off, she’d meet the guy tomorrow, and everything would sort itself out.

Jemma snuggled into her spot, hugging the sheet more tightly around herself. Even in the summer she was much more used to sleeping under a duvet so she felt entirely exposed. ‘Good night Bob’, she said into the darkness, and almost instantly an arm flung across the three foot gap, in the direction of Jemma’s bed. She hoped the aim wasn’t to make contact, but either way she had to tuck her chin into her neck to avoid a whack on the nose.

 

* * *

 

Fitz reluctantly opened his eyes to the sound of laboured breathing and slight grunting. He turned his head ever so slightly, and found exactly what he suspected. Trip doing crunches amidst piles of his belongings. Fitz cringed once Trip found his gaze, despite the fact that his eyes were filled with laughter. ‘Find what you were looking for?’

Raising a hand, Fitz rubbed his forehead. He didn’t sleep so well during the night; he was quite jet lagged, and at school found when he couldn’t sleep it helped to rough out a few ideas for designs. He was only here for the summer, after all, and he’d need _something_ to work on come September. However, Fitz had a feeling his late night; technically early morning brainstorm, would come back to bite him in the ass. ‘I eh… yeah I did’, he managed. He stretched out an arm and lamely pointed a finger toward the notepad which he’d rooted through his unpacked luggage, _in the dark_ , to find. Hence the mess. ‘Jet lagged, just jotting down a few concepts’.

He explained to Trip about his studies at MIT last night, and how even though lifeguarding was a passion of his, science was the other. The course in California was a great opportunity to improve at something he loved, and Fitz couldn’t pass up the opportunity once his old club in Scotland called and said applications were open internationally this year.

‘Alright, well breakfast is in 20 minutes and you probably don’t want to be late,' Trip informed him. With that Fitz turned around for ten 10 more minutes of sleep; ignoring his roommate’s laughter. He had a shower the day before, and there was no sense in showering _just_ before getting into the ocean. He could live with the stubble for a day.

Fitz was just locking up the room when he heard a buzzing behind him, and just as he turned Trip lifted his phone toward him, by way of explanation. ‘Just Bobbi, said she has a table for us in the cafeteria’. Fitz met Bobbi a few days ago when she came to borrow a movie from Trip, _Jurassic Park_. She mentioned something about wanting to entertain her roomie when she arrived. Which Fitz thought was considerate, even if he would have gone with a different film.

They had started down the corridor, when a thought crossed his mind, ‘if there’s only 20 people on this course, why is there a need for a canteen?’

As soon as the words left his mouth, they opened the door to the main hallway, and were met by a throng of kids. Trip chuckled at his aghast expression, remembering that he wouldn’t have seen any of this having arrived in late Friday. So he crooned, far too cheerily, ‘happy Monday’.

Right at that moment, Fitz swerved and narrowly avoided a whack to the stomach with an ore. He looked to Trip pleadingly who went on to explain, where they were doubled as a sleep-away summer programme that brought kids out on day trips, and did various water activities with them. ‘These newbies are paying for our programme, that’s why it costs almost nothing.’

Fitz nodded comprehendingly as they wove through the crowd, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t put that together sooner. ‘A new lot come in every few weeks, while we stay here all summer, so don’t get too attached. Coulson made that mistake once, and seven years later he still hasn’t managed to shake Bobbi and I’.

‘So you’ve been going here since?’ Fitz trailed off.

‘Oh, since we were twelve, that’s when we met. We had such a blast we decided to keep coming, and after a few years they offered us jobs as counsellors.’ He was about to continue his interrogation when Trip announced, ‘here we are!’

 

* * *

 

 ‘So Bobbi, when does your roommate arrive?’ They had already tucked into their breakfasts, when Fitz noticed there was no mention of anyone else joining them.

‘Oh, she got in quite late last night, so I told her to sleep in, said I’d bring her up some food when I was coming.’ The boys nodded and looked back to their plates as Bobbi continued. ‘So we didn’t end up watching the movie. Something about it being _rife with scientific inaccuracies_ ’, she finished in a spot on English accent. It caught Fitz off-guard and he stared at her open mouthed. ‘What?’

‘Oh’, he shook himself to consciousness, ‘it’s just… Well, she’s not wrong. Also is she English?’ He didn’t know why it concerned him so much, possibly because he hadn’t encountered anyone from Britain in over a year, the last time Fitz was home was at Christmas, 2 years ago. Even then, the only person he saw a lot of, was his mother.

‘Yes’, Bobbi announced rolling her eyes. ‘And I swear you’ll be like two PhDs in a pod, if you’re as particular as Jemma, about the sci-fi movies you’ll watch.’

Fitz perked up, a bit more awake now. This Jemma sounded very intriguing, and not just because she was English. Luckily for him he didn’t have to ask because Trip beat him to it, ‘PhD? How old is she?’

‘Mmhm, nineteen; but she’s only _starting_ her PhD, you know it’s no big deal’, Bobbi toyed. She got no response from the boys, Fitz just waited with bated attention for her to continue, and Trip just looked disgusted at the effort. The same as he had done when Fitz told him about his PhD pursuits.

‘Don’t ask me what in, syntha- xen-‘, she struggled before giving up. ‘Oh I have no clue, she tried to explain and it just went right over my head-‘

‘Of course it did’, Trip interrupted, ignoring Bobbi’s frosty glare. ‘Sounds like you two will hit it off!’

‘I reckon so, and you could have met her last night if you didn’t skip out on dinner! Where the hell were you two anyway?’ Bobbi deadpanned, clearly harbouring a grudge. ‘I was running registration for this lot all on my own’, she gestured widely to the hoard of kids making their way into the cafeteria.

Trip turned to Fitz for help, ‘Oh he um- we went for a surf and then got take-out’, he said. It didn’t seem to have helped and he got a thump in the shin, from Bobbi under the table, one which he suspected was actually for Trip, judging by her grimace. So they went back to indulging their meals.

 

* * *

 

 Addled by his disappointment, Fitz made his excuses and began the journey back to his room, trying to reconcile that he would meet Jemma later. They had the whole summer to get to know each other, after all. Fitz put his unease down to the fact; he had never met anyone in such a strikingly similar situation to his: the _same_ age, _both_ studying away from home, at the _same_ point in their academic careers. And despite Bobbi not managing to name her field, Fitz would put good money on it being somewhat similar to his.

And on top of all that, there was the fact they were going to meet at a lifeguarding course. What were the odds that two people who have so much in common, would cross paths on a programme, so far outside their respective norms?

Delving deeper into thought, Fitz lost sight of where he was going, focusing on his twiddling thumbs. He collided with someone carrying a tray across the room, and was splashed with a cup of orange juice, soaking his shirt right through to the skin. And without giving a thought to the person who he clashed with, Fitz cursed, ‘Oh for the love of- Fuck sake!’

Not having heard the timid apologies, Fitz glowered up from his shirt only to be met by a pair of massive worried eyes. This girl was stunning; wisps of her hair were backlit by the rising sun behind her. She looked angelic in nature, despite how flustered she was, and Fitz found the blush across her delicate features endearing.

However, scanning further down her body, he noticed the rattle of the tray in her grasp before he heard it. Then he caught wind of the words, tumbling from her mouth, laced with a dainty northern English accent. ‘My God, I am so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t-‘

_It was Jemma._

And he was dumbstruck and mortified, he had gone to snap at her. Taking a second to compose himself, Fitz brushed a glance across the floor and the tray, now steadier in her elegant hands. He noted that nothing had fallen, so he straightened to his full height, opened his mouth, then thought better of it, settling for resting his hands on Jemma’s shoulders and stepping to the side of her. Chocolate eyes scrutinising him every step of the way.

The sooner he got away the better, the last thing Fitz needed, was to make more of a fool of himself.

 

* * *

 

 Jemma managed to find Bobbi, not long after her run in with, who she thought was Fitz. Actually, she hoped it was Fitz. Well, she did _and_ she didn’t. On the one hand, Jemma liked what she saw; the guy she rammed into was well formed and symmetrical. He had a good few inches on her, so the first thing Jemma saw after her gaze tracked up his long, lean body was the light scruff, stippled along his jaw leading up to what she assumed, if left to grow; would amass a pile of poodle curls. Then came the startlingly blue eyes, which made her a little weak at the knees. As a biology major, Jemma knew how rare baby blues were, but she was fairly positive that this guys, were clearer than the waters she’d be in later. She hadn’t even noticed the apologies streaming from her mouth, neither necessary nor heard because of the lilted expletives streaming from his.

On the other hand, was the fact these curses were coming because Jemma had just managed to dump an _entire_ cup of juice on the lad, before she’d even opened her mouth. He looked pissed. _Kind_ , but understandably pissed. Then he reached forward, planting his firm grip on her shoulders, wrapping his slender fingers further around her, his rough fingertips sinking into her bare shoulders, and _placed_ her to the side of him.

Trip was at the table with Bobbi when she arrived, so she finally had the privilege of putting a face to the name. He seemed charming, boyishly so, and like he’d be a lot of fun to hang out with. The three of them enjoyed a relaxed chat after she finished eating, until Trip turned to her and asked, ‘Oh, my roommate Fitz was on his way back to the room when you were coming down. You didn’t bump into him did you?’

The irony assaulted her stomach in the form of nervous butterflies, it _was_ Fitz and she had already mucked it up.

 

* * *

 

 Later on in the morning, all the programme students were gathered on the strand, divided by gender for their fitness capacity tests. But for now they were being addressed, as a group, by the two head lifeguards on the beach, who happened to be their coaches for the summer.

‘I’m Coulson, this is May!’ The cheery middle aged man, wearing too small swimming togs chirped.

Jemma turned to hear Bobbi whispering in her ear, ‘no, they’re Philinda.’ May, a stunning woman, probably the same age as Coulson, but didn’t look a day over thirty, switched her line of sight to give Bobbi a death stare. ‘We call them that because they’re clearly die hard in love with each other, they just won’t admit it!’ She finished with a wink in May’s direction, and Jemma’s cheeks radiated embarrassment. None of this was the kind of attention she wanted drawn to her on day one, of a three month scheme.

But May seemed to have taken it in her stride; because she shrugged it off and picked up where Coulson was trailing off in his speech. ‘Alright, now that the welcome wagon is finished, I get to be the big bad bitch and tell you what you’re doing today!’ Looking smug, she turned to indicate a buoy about 200 meters off shore. ‘You lot are all going to swim out and around that buoy, you’re going to come back in and…’

She pointed them in the direction of a line of rescue boards, ‘you’re going to take one of those boards, paddle out and around the buoy again. Then you sprint 150 meters to the lifeguard tower and clock in with Coulson, he likes getting to know your names,’ she informed and Coulson nodded in agreement. ‘I, on the other hand only learn the _important_ ones’.

_‘Whoomp_ , there it is,’ remarked an Australian girl, standing somewhere behind Jemma. Suddenly she understood why May had only gotten a perfunctory nod from Coulson, it was because she was well capable of making her own impression. From that one statement; Jemma knew everything she needed to about her coach, she _didn’t_ take any shit, except maybe from Bobbi and Trip, and she _should_ be intimidated.

‘I’ll be watching from the strand to make sure there is no foul play in the water, and Coulson will have a pair of binoculars to watch behind me.’ Bobbi snickered from beside Jemma and across the group she could see Trip waggling his eyebrows at Fitz. Clearly, he was getting the same run down as she and was equally as bothered, he back handed his roommate in the stomach.

Continuing stoically, May said, ‘that’s eleven hundred meters total.’ There was a collective groan from the group, to her apparent pleasure as a smirk quirked the thin line of her lips, ‘and I almost forgot…. First ones across set the minimum qualifying requirement for the course, boys have to be within five minutes of the first one across and for girls, it’s six. If you don’t manage this; then you have to redo it until you do.’ She looked impassive but Jemma could tell by the gleam in her eye that May got a special kind of satisfaction from telling them this.

 

* * *

 

 Forty minutes later, Jemma was sprawled across her towel, cursing her decision to join this course, and feeling sorry for herself when she felt a jab in her ribs. She rolled her head to the side so she could glower up at the culprit, but she didn’t get a chance, because Bobbi ran an ice cold bottle of water along her spine, causing Jemma to jump out of her skin. ‘You did good English, you deserve some water’, she said with a shit eating grin.

‘Ugh, water’, Jemma groaned, face again turned into her towel. Bobbi had of course set the bar for the girls, and Jemma pushed herself to come in third out of ten. Every inch of her body ached, and she could feel herself baking in the sun. She flopped over onto her back and took the bottle from Bobbi’s outstretched hand.

The two lay there peacefully, trying to catch their breath for about 10 minutes before trouble came, ‘you two look like you could use some company’, Trip drawled from beside them.

‘Well that depends on the company, you bring Fitz?’ Bobbi challenged and Jemma’s stomach did a little flip at the thought of an actual introduction, a shot at redemption.

Appearing behind Trip, was a dripping wet Fitz, as lean as he was, Jemma also caught sight of some slight abs, which was to be expected given his fitness level. The pair of them had been pretty much tied for third, even given the time allowance for girls. But unfortunately, they didn’t get a chance to chat in the lifeguard tower because right after signing in, he was off to the water again to cool down. ‘The _other_ British brainiac we were telling you about this morning, this is Jemma’. She rose to her feet and dusted the sand from her hands before reaching it out to him.

‘Hi Fitz, nice to officially meet you. And sorry about earlier’, she apologised again, just for good measure. Fitz took her hand and waved her apology away with his free. ‘Other brainiac?’ She inquired.

Fitz opened his mouth to explain, possibly dismiss, what she was asking but Trip jumped in, depriving her of the chance to hear the accent again. ‘Fitz here, just finished up his master’s degree, going on to do his doctorate next year’.

Jemma’s eyes lit up, Bobbi had neglected to tell her that, ‘well we’ll have to talk about that sometime, I’m doing mine too, just finished my masters in Cambridge, synthetic biology and chemistry’.

Fitz looked impressed and Bobbi chimed in, ‘ _That_ was it, synthetic!’

Ignoring Bobbi, he answered, ‘em, yeah we can talk about it sometime’, Jemma tried not to feel disheartened by his lack of excitement.

 

* * *

 

  **One week in:**

The group were granted a long weekend, and Bobbi and Trip insisted it should be spent at the shelf. However, they refused to explain what exactly that was until they’d all arrived.

So a few hours later, Jemma was looking out at an unobstructed view of the shimmering horizon, all other beachgoers were far out of sight. They were on a level sheet of rock, sheltered from the scorching sun by the cliff ledge hanging over them, and she looked on as her new friends dived off the far end of the rocks, into the frothing waves.

Jemma had been lashing on the SPF all day, in an effort to keep her inevitable sunburn at bay, a little while longer. She had been using only her bottle though, because she thought Trip’s level of smugness warranted caution, and it turned out that she was correct.

Not having spoken much to Jemma all week, Fitz had been asleep on his towel since they arrived, staying mostly to himself and not keeping track of the sun in his slumber. At this stage Jemma was convinced that what happened in the cafeteria made a lasting impression, because he seemed to be doing his utmost to avoid one-on-one conversations with her, always searching for the opportunity to pull someone else in, and he never seemed to come within a couple of feet of her. She was trying to make peace with the fact that he simply didn’t want a friendship with her, and that sort of stung, she was so excited to hear about his studies, if he was still living at home; to know _exactly_ how much they had in common.

After about two hours of lying on the rocks, Jemma noticed that Fitz was entirely out of the shade. Not wanting to tiptoe around a sleeping lion, she nudged Trip to make him aware. He kindly volunteered to lather him with sun cream so his ‘pasty pale’ skin wouldn’t get burned. Jemma could see now, that he had done half of his job, but probably not to Fitz’s satisfaction, because when he woke up in the late afternoon for a dip, she could see the massive outline of a penis seared along the span of his back. She had to purse her lips together in order not to laugh, she could only assume that this would be well outside the realm of Fitz’s sense of humour.

Once again, Jemma was proved correct as Bobbi pulled him to side of the group; and she watched as his face turned to match the shade of the genitalia burned onto his skin. His glare snapped straight in her direction. In an instant Trip went from being in stitches laughing to a dead straight poker face. It must have been as convincing to Fitz as well, because the first person he stared down once he stormed over was Jemma and she went rigid. ‘Come on Fitz, you must be joking, like I’d take part in this childish nonsense!’ She protested and turned hoping that Trip would come to help her, he didn’t.

Raising an eyebrow Fitz said, ‘I know you wouldn’t, I just wanted to see how ready Trip would be to come to your defence’, Jemma smiled to herself. ‘And seriously, why are you such a tool? I have a job to do, I can’t look like this’.

‘Relax Fitz, it’ll even out in a couple of days when the rest of you burns!’ Jemma huffed at that and quickly drew her lips into a thin line, the scowl was transferred from Trip to her and Fitz’s cheeks flared up. She decided it might be best to quit while ahead and join Bobbi and the others down by the water. Jemma thought twice about giving him a friendly pat on the back though, both because of the burn and because she wasn’t fully convinced they’d ever be that close.

 

* * *

 

 Heading into the early evening, Bobbi decided she wouldn’t be able to last any longer without a burger and shake. Of course when she invited the boys, there was no hesitation in Trip accepting for the both of them, which meant Fitz would once again be spending his night trying to avoid awkward conversation with Jemma.

In fairness to her, Fitz was the only one who made it awkward, she was trying to be polite and unassuming. But he knew it was only a matter of time before the internal flurry of being close to her made him mortify himself, so he thought it best to back off.

Because of Bobbi’s insatiable hunger, she bugged the three of them until they agreed to leave early, and they were now strolling their way towards one of her favourite fast food joints. She mused that if they got a day off from training, that they also got a day off from the dietary restrictions, which Fitz wasn’t going to protest. ‘It’s only ten more minutes up the road I swear’, Bobbi promised, this elicited a groan from Jemma, in turn causing Fitz to grin to himself.

‘We passed campus five minutes ago, you couldn’t have at least left us drop off our bags?’ She had a point, all four of them were still carrying their gear bags and massive bottles of water.

Just as Jemma was going to get her, probably sarcastic reply; a car pulled up beside them and the window rolled down. Fitz recognised the guy inside from there course, Jake, he was still at the shelf when the four of them left, but because he lived locally, he had a car to get around. It’s also why he wasn’t staying on campus with the rest of them, which Fitz was sort of thankful for. In his sleepy daze he had seen Jake eyeing Jemma on the rocks, not all that stealthily either, because she seemed to have also noticed, and if his eyes weren't decieving him, Jemma didn't look at that appreciative of the ogling. 

Fitz didn’t feel she needed any help though because that’s when she moved over to join Trip, although she still seemed rather wary any time Fitz looked over, simply to make sure Trip wasn’t up to something with his stuff. He was. Wanker.

That’s how he was able to understand her confusion, when Jake rolled down the window and asked, ‘You wanna ride?’ With the combination of the question, and the Californian accent, Fitz could see this going downhill fast. Jemma’s grasp tightened around her bag strap and her cheeks flared as she spluttered out her ‘pardons’.

That phrase meant something else entirely on their side of the pond, but being in the US had afforded him the opportunity to readjust some of his more crude slang. Jake repeated himself once again, which only served to spur Jemma on, becoming insulted by his apparent openness. Fitz thought she may have realised her mistake by now, but apparently not and she was about to go off on the guy. _Really_ go off on him.

He decided to suck up what was left of his pride and give her a hand. Stepping between Jemma and the car, which also, in favour of her judgement, was closest to her. _All the odds were stacked against Jake here,_ and the poor lad looked startled, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. Fitz gave Jake a curt nod before whispering to her evenly, so that only she could hear, ‘Jemma, he’s eh... He’s offering you a lift!’ It didn’t settle her like he’d hoped, now Jemma simply looked flustered in a different way, if it were possible he’d say her cheeks reddened even more.

Turning into him, Jemma’s eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her mouth, fumbling for words. She looked up to Fitz for help and he was struck by how close her face was to him, so close that when a breeze passed by, her hair tickled his jaw and he jumped back.

Jemma looked upset for a second before she leant back toward the car window, ‘oh, we’re fine Jake, thank you’, she managed, sounding as apologetic as she could after what just happened. Giving them a quick wave, Jake rolled up the window but Fitz caught his mumbled confusion and chuckled to himself. This again brought out a slight frown on Jemma’s face, so Fitz did what he did best, and avoided any embarrassing explanation by turning to their roommates.

Both Bobbi and Trip at this point looked as confused as Jake, though there was a touch of annoyance to Bobbi’s features. ‘What the _hell_ just happened?’ ‘Care to explain?’ They exclaimed simultaneously.  

 

* * *

 

  **Three weeks in:**

‘Red sky at night shepherds’ delight, red sky at morning shepherds’ warning’.

These were the words Fitz chanted to himself as he sat, straddled on his board facing out towards the sunrise. The clouds tinged a dazzling pink. As a kid, this is what his mother would reel off to him, Fitz would be perched on their garden fence as his mother busied herself in their vegetable patch before school. ‘I tell you, it’s an omen Leo, a sign that something bad is to come’.

Of course that ‘something bad’ was usually a spot of drizzle, or at worst, a snowstorm. But Fitz couldn’t imagine his situation getting much worse than it was at present. He’d spent much of the beginning of the programme trying to avoid Jemma, and the embarrassment that would inevitably follow his proximity to her. However, trying to avoid someone whose roommate was joined at the hip with his own was unrealistic, so Fitz settled for sidestepping interactions with her at all costs.

The calm of being in the water was lost on him after the last number of weeks, and he wanted to get that back. Fitz set his alarm to get up early and have a leisurely surf, which was turning out to be a bit of a workout, given the unusually choppy waves that morning. He had the beach largely to himself; except for a dot of a person he saw further down the strand before mounting his board. Fitz found it freeing to do what he loved without the dead weight of a rescue dummy or the heavy gaze Philinda constantly held on him.

Fitz was just getting comfortable, relaxed on the board, when he heard the phantom roars of May coming back to haunt him. Except this time, Fitz thought, the barked orders weren’t coming from the direction of the shore, and more from far off to his right.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hand shoot up from the surface of the water, and he sprang into action.

 

* * *

 

 Jemma, from a young age, was an early riser but this morning she was up even before the sun. She decided to take full advantage of the opportunity by going for a walk on the beach. While strolling down the water’s edge she came to a standstill, feet sinking into the sand, illuminated by the suns golden reflection as it rose above the horizon. The foamy swash rhythmically wrapped around Jemma’s ankles, rooting her further into the sand, grounding her, calming her. As she exhaled, the waves washed back towards the horizon, pulling with them the tension in her shoulders.

Jemma’s first few weeks in California had been high strung, to say the least, and not just with the physical work. She was also finding it difficult to interact with Fitz. Jemma was aware the last thing either of them needed was to have their summer ruined by this uncomfortable indifference, it was childish really and she wanted to put a stop to it. To think it had all started because Jemma got ahead of herself, rushing to meet the one person who she could really strike up a friendship with, and it was all shot to hell before she even made it to the table.

Although Fitz didn’t seem all that bothered by what happened anymore, he also didn’t seem to be all that bothered with Jemma. Any attempt she’d made at small talk or helpful gestures; he froze, refusing the aid and any form of contact. Fitz wouldn’t even look her in the eye and she was past trying, if he was past caring. So she decided to move on, draw a line in the sand and do what she came here to do. Become a better lifeguard in practice.

Peering down, Jemma saw the pile of crumbled sand around her foot, and the stroke she’d carved with her big toe being smoothed away by the back wash. ‘That’s that, I guess’, she mumbled to the glittering heavens, pockets of sunshine peeking their way through the clouds, a rosy hue tarnishing the otherwise crisp blue sky.

 

* * *

 

 Jemma was sitting on the lifeguard tower balcony, dusting the soles of her feet; ridding them of sand. She glanced up toward the horizon and spotted who she recognised as Fitz. He was paddling against the current to the far side of the bay, into a rip. Feeling the panic boiling in the pit of her stomach, Jemma stood to get a better view; as reckless as Fitz may be; he wasn’t an idiot. Something _must_ be wrong.

Panning her gaze along the horizon, Jemma landed on the frightening sight of a swimmer, caught at the centre of the rip he was headed for. She would have missed it if she weren’t squinting so hard; the poor soul was being tossed mercilessly under the surface. Bobbing sporadically, but clearly not skilled enough or equipped to be out that far with no supervision. And Jemma wasn’t certain how lucky the victim was that Fitz was there; because paddling against the current, it didn’t look like he was going to make it in time.

Jemma sprang to her feet and bolted toward the shark alarm on the tower wall anf flicked it on. She then grabbed one of the rescue cans lying nearby.

As she sprinted toward the cliff closest to the victim, she stripped down to her bikini. She had her misgivings about her choice of swimwear; lifeguards wore one-pieces for a reason, but Jemma pushed that thought from her mind, as she felt the cool brush of the grass tickle the bottom of her feet.

Bracing herself, Jemma launched from the ledge. She could feel the goose bumps rising over every inch of her, and strands of hair whipping around. It may have been shock, but it took a moment for Jemma to register what she did; and when she realised, all she could feel was the force of air driving over her, it was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. She felt her stomach rising within her and held a death grip over the rescue can.

Gasping in a breath and pointing her toes straight in the direction of the water, she scrunched her eyes shut and pierced through the surface. Jemma was consumed by the hollow sounds of immersion and felt bubbles dancing up her skin. The current thrashing her around under the water, salt stinging her now open eyes.

She fought her way back to the top, pulling the mop of hair from her face, and turning around to gauge her whereabouts. Having seen no sight of the drowner on her decent, Jemma hoped to catch a glimpse of a faded, not-yet-lifeless body, underwater. And that she did. Well, she caught sight of a female body, whether or not it was lifeless was to be determined and Jemma was suddenly reluctant.

Not that she had a choice though, because the current was sweeping her in the same direction as the victim. She readied the rope attached to the rescue can, looping it around her elbow and shoulder. Jemma sucked in a breath, ducking her head back under the water and pushed a little to swim with the current, she nearly missed the victim but managed to wrap her free arm around her torso at the last second.

Binding it around the girl, probably not much younger than herself, Jemma made certain to secure the can to her and hold as tightly as she could to the body. She shredded to keep them both above the surface. Her main concern at that moment was that she had no idea whether spinal damage was an issue or not, and Jemma was getting increasingly concerned for the amount of water splashing its way into the girl’s gaping mouth. Making an executive decision, she decided to reach down and pinch the back of her knee. Relief flooded Jemma as she felt the girl’s leg twitch against her own, making it alright for her to tip back her jaw.

She managed to catch a few glimpses amidst the unruly waves, but she was fighting to keep her calm. That was until she finally spotted Fitz approaching them, pushing against the flow. Jemma kicked her way toward him, working with the current and dragging the body behind her.

Once he was close enough, Fitz stopped fighting the current and stretched his arm out to catch Jemma’s free hand.

‘What the _hell_ were you thinking Jemma?’ He all but shouted at her, accent thick with anger and more than likely, exertion. She threw him a scowl, letting him know it wasn’t the time, even though she was positive he copped that himself.

Seeing his uncertainty at passing the body between them she choked out assuredly, ‘her spine’s alright Fitz and I caught a pulse.’

 

* * *

 

If he were being honest, he would have told Jemma right then that he trusted her to do all that, she was good at what she did. The reason Fitz froze, was because he wasn’t sure he’d even get to them, and he was certain his heart stopped the _second_ he glimpsed Jemma approaching the cliff ledge. It didn’t take him a beat to put two and two together. He screamed for her to stop, at the top of his lungs, but Jemma mustn’t have heard. Because she jumped and that alone spurred Fitz on.

Only when Jemma winced, did he realise his grip on her forearm had gotten tighter, the longer she spoke. He released the grasp and took hold of the victim’s underarms, lifting her to the board.

Giving a helpful boost, Jemma offered, ‘she’s not going to make it to the shore but I raised the alarm so hopefully help will be here soon!’ Casting his stare to the strand Fitz saw nobody, at least not yet, and shook his head solemnly at her.

Turning, at the same time they both exclaimed, ‘the shelf!’

After pulling her onto the board, Jemma settled herself in front of Fitz and partially on top of the girl to secure her. For a split second he was thrown by his proximity to Jemma, in a manner that, in any other situation would probably be considered intimate. Especially considering she was sandwiched under him, but Fitz worked through whatever it was he was feeling and paddled, with Jemma’s help around the head of the bay.

With the force of the current propelling the board, they were launched onto the rock. A loud crack followed by a piercing pain drew Fitz’s attention to the tail end of the board. He spied a drop of blood trickling down his leg, following a fin that had snapped off against the soaking granite. They skid to a halt in the centre of the plateau, out of reach of any incoming waves.

Fitz and Jemma simultaneously rolled off the board to kneel on the ground. Leaning down to loosen the rope tied around her torso, he passed a quick glance toward Jemma, catching her puzzled expression, ‘the fins are gone from the underside, s’why it’s level, we can use it to support her during CPR, if needed’.

Taking heed of his words, Jemma nodded at Fitz to turn the girl onto her back, while she scooted to the opposite side of the board. She bent over to check if the girl was breathing, ‘needed’, she informed Fitz. Each was panting as bad as the other but Jemma volunteered, ‘I’ll go first, you’ve been paddling for God knows how long’.

Fitz cleared to give her some space, grateful for the opportunity to catch his breath. ‘Ladies first’, he mumbled. Despite the situation he caught the quirk in Jemma’s lip when he said it. She poised herself, locking her elbows over the victim, he could see the wheels turning in her head, calculating just how much pressure she should be putting on the girl’s chest.

Jemma gave him the signal, and Fitz tentatively placed a hand under the girl’s neck to lift it. The other smoothed over her face, clearing it of hair while tilting it back to clear her airway. Jemma performed compressions for a solid ninety seconds before exertion kicked in and the pair traded places. Jemma, continuing to count aloud and utter words of encouragement to Fitz. At the two minute mark he began to show signs of doubt, he was too slow getting to her. Thank God for Jemma, otherwise the blame of not getting to the girl, would’ve crippled Fitz.

_And_ thank God for Jemma because, at that moment she set her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed, plucking from him the shame that was mounting inside. Continuing his compressions Fitz looked up to see her staring him dead in the eye, the reflection of the morning sky giving rise to a flaming hue he hadn’t registered in her eyes before. ‘You’ve got this Fitz, _we’ve_ got this’, she corrected, defiantly. He nodded, and Jemma let her touch slide down his arm, back to cup the girl’s face, leaving a tingling trail in its wake.

They switched once more before the girl thankfully coughed up some water and took in a shaky breath in. The pair rushed to place the girl in the recovery position and after succeeding Fitz slouched back onto his heels, taking in a deep breath, revelling in the release of his anxiety. Straight away Jemma had adopted a motherly persona, stroking the girl’s hair, trying as gently as she could to explain what happened, just being there for her through the terror. Like she had somehow been there for him.

Fitz turned when he heard a rumble coming up behind him, May was approaching on a jet ski, rescue board latched to the back for the girl. Just as he was about to inform Jemma, he saw her looking across at him, beaming. It took the breath right out of him, and he just shook his head in disbelief. ‘She’ll be okay Fitz, we did it’.

He winced slightly to himself as the adrenaline of the ordeal wore off, and Fitz’s attention was drawn back to the gaping wound on his calf. He gagged slightly, and for a second prayed he could put it down to sympathy vomiting, as the girl was now ridding her system of salt water. The last thing Fitz wanted was Jemma knowing about his aversion to blood. Suddenly there was a set to her features, worry over rode her joy and she scurried around the victim to hold his reddened leg.

‘Fitz, how did this? Why didn’t you say anything?’ She scolded, taking her index finger, Jemma rimmed the edge of the laceration, inspecting it closely. He gagged again, instinct told him to pull away but for some reason, the comfort of her touch dulled the pain. That was until she looked up at him expectantly.

‘Oh, um, the fins… We knocked them off coming on to the rocks, got a bit of a nick’, he explained, trying to downplay his pain. Especially now that she’d dropped her touch from the gash.

Fitz could tell that she was fighting an eye-roll, ‘a bit of a nick? _Really_ Fitz?’ She was as indignant as he, in that moment. Jemma clamped down on the cut, which was easily an inch deep and pinched the skin on either side together.

‘We were both a bit busy Jemma.’ She chuckled in spite of the serious situation. Fitz cracked a smile and followed a droplet, falling from a strand of hair, loose from her skin. It landed on his thigh and he glanced down to where they were joined, he saw her delicate hands coated in his blood.

He cringed and Jemma snapped her head up to meet his eyes, ‘Don’t be ridiculous Fitz, I just, I can’t believe I didn’t notice’.

She sounded so disappointed in herself, that his heart ached. Wanting to comfort her like she’d done so easily, he kidded, ‘I barely noticed; adrenaline rush!’ Fitz added the last bit to ease her shock, for a moment there she looked stunned by his inhuman ability to deal with pain, at least this way she had more of a practical explanation. He heaved again and her eyebrows thread together knowingly.

 

* * *

 

 The pair were called in to Coulson’s office a few hours later, they were sat opposite his desk, in a set of matching arm chairs and May was poised against the edge of the table. ‘Thank you for coming in to speak with us, we would have called you sooner, but we were held up dealing with Ms. Santiago’s father, and you needed the time to get that gash sorted’, Coulson said, nodding thoughtfully towards Fitz’s leg.

However, worry over took him, and Fitz found the words rushing from his mouth, ‘is this about raising the shark alarm without permission? Because Jemma was only trying to help me! Really Coulson! And the beach was empty anyway!’ Under the table Jemma rested a hand on his knee, he’d heard her say to Bobbi earlier that she’d take whatever punishment came her way, _‘it was worth it’_. She probably just didn’t want him to make things worse for himself.

‘Fitz, we’d never punish you or Jemma for what you did today, we called you in here to _commend_ you –And it’s Phil’, May corrected pointing in the direction of Coulson, who was nodding his approval.

‘Melinda’, he said pointing to his partner. ‘Absolutely, without you two, Amy would have died out there. And I mean the _pair_ of you’, Fitz turned to see if Jemma had caught his stress on the word ‘pair’, but she was already smiling at him.

He was so caught up in her affection, hand now squeezing his knee; that he almost didn’t hear Coulson continue. ‘That’s another reason we took so long to call you in here. We wanted to go through the security footage; and the rescue you performed has been unparalleled by _any_ other students we’ve had pass through here’, Trip and Bobbi came to mind but he didn’t bother to interrupt. ‘Fitz, the navigation skills you displayed were impeccable, and if it weren’t for the reckless place Amy was swimming, you’d have made an excellent rescue, single-handedly’.

‘And Jemma,’ May chimed in, ‘it’s because of that, Fitz was so lucky you were there. It was quick thinking and massively brave of you to do what you did, most other rookies might have grabbed a second board, tried to beat Fitz to it. But you performed a cliff dive, which takes guts’. Jemma looked honestly chuffed with herself, taking the hand from Fitz’s leg and smoothing it over the worry lines in her forehead.

‘The bottom line: we called you in here because we want to make you partners. We know that you’re equally fond of your roommates and that you clashed slightly at the beginning of this programme. But after today, we truly believe that you two work _better together_.'

Fitz turned to Jemma just in time to catch a watery smile, from tears that he could safely assume were from pride, and they nodded to each other. ‘Of course’ ‘I don’t see why not’

Coulson looked extremely happy with himself, and as per usual, May’s expression was entirely unreadable but at the same time significantly less icy. ‘Well then that will be all Fitzsimmons’, May said and she finished with a wink in Jemma’s direction, which Fitz wasn’t even going to try decipher. Jemma looked just as shocked at the drop in façade as he was, and it didn’t look like she was concerned, so he wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

 ‘So, blood, huh?’ Jemma asked her new partner teasingly. They had just been released from Philinda’s office and were making the walk down the corridor, back to the dorm wing of the building. She giggled at his defensive reaction: grunting his disagreement and waving off the accusation. ‘It’s okay Fitz, I’m terrified of heights!’

‘Heights?’ He exclaimed as he turned to gawk at her, ‘Jemma, you launched yourself off a cliff earlier and you’re trying to tell me you’re afraid of heights?’

‘You know what they say, desperate times… ’ That’s really the only way she could put it, ‘and I didn’t even register what I was doing; until I was almost at the surface, adrenaline rush’, she teased.

Fitz looked genuinely impressed as he smiled down at her, crinkling the corners of his eyes, ‘well, I’m glad it ended up like that, you’re the better swimmer anyway.’ Whatever strains there were on their relationship before were gone, all bullshit cut. Jemma was delighted to take the compliment and could feel the tips of her ears turning pink, she was gracious for her frizzing hair, covering them as it dried. ‘Well then we both faced a fear today’, he claimed proudly.

‘Ha, so you _are_ afraid of blood,’ she blurted in triumph, and tried to compensate, ‘it’s perfectly natural you know, to be afraid’.

She’d barely said the words when Fitz cut across her, ‘I was not afraid’. He was adamant and for a moment Jemma was afraid she’d touched a nerve, but then saw the opportunity to test the waters of their newfound partnership, turned friendship.

‘You gagged’, she reasoned plainly.

To her pleasure, Fitz seemed more than keen to challenge her, ‘I winced!’ He declared it as though it were a slur to say otherwise. Jemma chortled, rolling her eyes back into her skull.

‘Is this what our partnership is going to be?’ Fitz went to answer but she rallied on, ‘constant bickering and talking over each other?’ Sarcasm tinging her tone, not because she meant it like that, but because she couldn’t push it from her mind; that at least it was better than silence. By the regretful look on his face, Jemma could only guess that Fitz was thinking the exact same thing.

‘Jemma I’m-‘, Fitz started.

‘Wait, you never told me why you’re afraid of blood!’ She proclaimed over him.

He glared coolly at her, ‘Sorry you were saying?’ At this point she literally could not stop herself from smiling, this turn around was one hundred percent unexpected and a hundred times more welcomed.

‘I was going to say; you have no idea how grateful I am that you were there today’, that she already knew, not because he’d said it in so many words, but because he’d made more genuine conversation and eye contact with her in the last 4 hours, than he had in the past three weeks. Jemma glimpsed a sheen of sweat forming on Fitz’s forehead, she was concerned that maybe he really did need to get something off his chest. She urged him to continue with a nudge.

‘I also wanted to say thank you for stitching up my leg, I wouldn’t have been able to do it’, with the cadence in his voice much more pronounced than usual, there was a fleeting look of sorrow in his eyes, a more crystal hue of blue than she was able to handle. Jemma felt a pang in her chest as she realised that maybe that was a huge feat for him today. Not just the rescue, but making it through in one piece. However, he down played it by saying, ‘I also don’t think there’s anyone who would’ve done a better job stitching than you’.

Again, she would take the compliment, Jemma didn’t want to push him into saying more than he was ready for.

 

* * *

 

**Seven weeks in:**

The others were getting tetchy waiting in the cafeteria. In fairness Jemma had an excuse, she stayed late at the tower to help an old woman who had fallen on the promenade and gashed her thigh wide open, the last Fitz had seen, she was clamping an artery shut with her bare hands. He didn’t stick around long enough to see for himself, but he could guess that she’d earned her extra ten minutes getting ready. A full month into their partnership, and Jemma was completely accustomed to Fitz's aversion to blood.  She also had the grace not to ask why he'd have such an aversion, it made him shudder to think of having to explain to her. 

Tonight all the programme students were going out to a club, they didn’t know which one yet but Fitz supposed any that was lenient about ‘underage’ drinkers. _Bullshit_.

Nearing her door, he tapped a few times with his knuckle and called her name, hearing no reply he decided to venture into the room. As he walked down the narrow hallway, past the open bathroom door, he heard a light thumping on the floor and the sounds of muffled music. Fitz sensed that if he continued into the room he’d startle Jemma, but if she was making them late for the sake of jumping around, then the others would never let him hear the end of it.

Now standing in the main part of the room, Fitz’s mouth fell open as he was met with the sight of Jemma, turned with her back to him clad only in her under wear and a pair of blaring earphones. He didn’t have a chance to back track out of the room, because she turned in the middle of biting the tags off her new dress and screamed, ‘oh my God!’ She dropped her dress to the floor in her scramble to take out her earphones. Fitz could now see that she was in fact wearing a matching coral pink, bra and panty set embellished with lace.

It took a second for Jemma’s screech to reach his ears. ‘What the hell?’ He countered, not fully knowing _what_ he was questioning. Why she would change with the door unlocked? Or why she was cursing? Although he was too at this stage, so he couldn’t say much.

Jemma seemed to have composed herself enough to continue about what she was doing, as though nothing had happened; despite the expletives still rolling in a thick brogue from his mouth.

‘What the hell?’ She mocked, ‘ _you_ walked in on _me_! And what’s the big deal?’ she asked, with her arms thrown wide open so that now Fitz could tell the bra she was wearing was a front tie, but rather than a clasp, the cups were laced together with a strand of silk. He took a moment to marvel at her patience and the engineering of women’s lingerie, before noticing that his eyes were trailing up to the merge on her chest, much the same as the blush creeping up his neck and face. The attire was significantly skimpier than Fitz would have imagined, even for clubbing. If that was the sort of thing he allowed himself to think about of course, but it wasn’t, in fact he tried very hard to make sure it wasn’t.

‘You’re _naked_ _Jemma_!’ He shouted incredulously, as if it wasn’t obvious why he was flustered.

Snapping she replied, ‘no more than usual, _Leo_!’ Immediately he retreated, figuring she had a point, they had the spent better part of the past six weeks on a beach together. Jemma went back to biting the tags off her dress, but when she had trouble she held the garment out for Fitz’s help. Apprehensive, he stepped forward, but absolutely no more than necessary to take it from her. Fitz tried to keep his eyes on his feet, while doing his utmost not to dwell on the fact, that as he panned his gaze to the floor he noticed her panties clearly replicated the bra, in that they too had to be tied up the front.

From Fitz’s eyes, Jemma seemed entirely unfazed and suddenly there was a weight of pressure for him to appear the same. He chuckled to spite himself, because of course she would see it that way, she had no idea that he’d been steadily falling for her since the day they met in the cafeteria. The more time they spent together, the more he was reminded of just how remarkably talented and insightful she was.

However, he was done for as soon as Jemma bent forward to slip her feet into the strappy heels she was going to be wearing out. As she leaned forward, Fitz struggled not to notice how her breasts settled into the cups of the bra, and the svelte length of her legs. He shook himself from his reverie, berating his train of thought; this wasn’t at all the same for Jemma as it was for him. He felt as though he was taking advantage.

‘I’ll wait for you outside Jemma’, Fitz didn’t wait for a response and he didn’t dare look back.

 

* * *

 

 They’d been at the club now for close to 3 hours, and things were faring well. Jemma and Fitz had skimmed over the awkwardness of their earlier encounter, despite her odd feelings of disappointment.

She’d tried to play it cool when Fitz walked in on her changing and she was grateful it worked, he didn’t make a fuss over it or anything. Well apart from the initial shock, it made Jemma giggle just thinking about it. There’s not much that can be considered funnier than seeing a red-faced, cursing scot, frantically darting his head around to look anywhere but at a naked girl; while one is still mentally singing _Anaconda_.

So Jemma supposed the tug of disappointment she felt in her chest, was due to the fact that, while Fitz was entirely blasé about seeing her in close to nothing, he was having an immense effect on her, while fully clothed and talking about monkeys. Jemma wasn’t even sure how their discussing had turned from ‘americans can’t hold their fucking liquor’ to primates, but it probably had something to do withhow well he could wear a leather jacket.

The pair were perched at the bar, each nursing a pint, a considerable step down from the vodka shots they’d been downing with the others earlier, when they hopped down from their stools to greet Bobbi, who they’d barely caught a glimpse of the entire night.

‘You are a true friend’, she blurted, grabbing onto Jemma’s shoulder, she wished she were able to put the glint in Bobbi’s eye down to the sentiment of what she was saying; but that was squandered by both the fact she was stumbling down drunk. And also that the next words out of her mouth were, ‘and a hot little piece!’ She chose to punctuate this with a too tight ass grab, and a quick wink in Fitz’s direction. However, he didn’t catch the wink because he looked to be eyeing Jemma, making certain she was okay with this development. She shrugged her shoulders in subtle reply.

‘You know,’ pausing, Bobbi left out an impossibly delicate hiccup.  She traced a finger down Fitz's face, it looked as though she were tugging a string binding his eyebrows together.

If Jemma had less wits about her, she’d have probably laughed at the situation unfolding before her eyes, it was comical really, the difference in height now that Bobbi was wearing heels. But she didn’t have the luxury of being drunk enough, and so had a niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach that caution was in order. This _was_ the same girl who’d mocked Jemma a few days prior, after hearing a certain someone’s name, mumbled during sleep.

‘If you were really a genius; you’d see what’s happening here’, she gestured between the two of them, ‘you’d stop fucking around and get on that!’

Jemma’s jaw dropped, and it looked as though the wind was knocked right out of Fitz.

Trip had warned her to expect ‘4 drink pervy Bobbi’ but she hadn’t expected it to come in the form of crudely forward, and uncomfortably true to life match-making.

Jemma wanted to douse Bobbi in the pitcher of margarita’s resting behind her, but it was both pointless, given she was drenched in sweat anyway; and impossible because she was reciprocating her roommates thumbs up. _When did Jemma become so complicate?_

 

* * *

 

Given that it was a Saturday, Fitz and Jemma hadn’t had much, if any interaction the following day. Fitz was in the lurch as to whether it was a conscious decision, or it was happenstance because they didn’t have training, but either way he was thankful. It meant he didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness Bobbi unleashed last night.

However, it was a bitter sweet victory because it also meant that he was in for a restless night. At about 3am the hunger hit Fitz like a hundred punches to the stomach. Usually he’d have something prepared in his dorm kitchenette before bed, in case he’d wake up starving. Even at home; his mother used to whip up a sandwich before lights out, supposedly she was sick of helping him look for ingredients that he couldn’t find in the dark.

_‘You know Leo, there’s a light in the fridge for a reason’,_ she’d chastise. _‘I’d swear with the amount of food you inhale that you’re ….’_ This, for Fitz is where the memory went hazy, either because he was too exhausted at the time, or his ‘selective mutism’ kicked in. He was yet to receive a medical diagnosis on the condition anyway.

He slipped on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, careful not to rustle around too much and wake sleeping beauty, which was the last thing Fitz wanted. He crept down the corridor of the boys’ wing, paying special attention to his footsteps as he passed Coulson’s door at the entrance; even if Trip was _convinced_ he never slept in his own room.

Fitz made it all the way to the centre of the canteen with no close calls. Then, the aroma hit him, the smell of caramelised apples and crisping pastry was wafting from the kitchen. For a moment, he contemplated whether or not the staff would snitch on him to Philinda, before he recalled that it was gone three in the morning. Nobody had business baking at this hour. His stomach grumbled and Fitz wrapped an arm across it, undeterred, he continued on through the door of the kitchen.

He stopped still just around the corner to the main prep area, he heard weak sobs cutting through the hum of the many oven vents. Fitz peeked his head around the corner, not wanting to disturb whoever it was in an intimate moment. But upon seeing it was Jemma, his heart broke. She was slaved away over what looked like a batch of cookies, she had her elbows crossed on top of a Kitchen Aid, cradling her head. He skimmed his eyes further across the room and noticed that she had a Battenberg prepped to go into the oven, and 2 pies already baking away.

Looking back to see Jemma’s hair getting too close to the whisk for comfort, Fitz decided it may be best to make his presence known. He cleared his throat and she whipped her head up to gape and him, swiping the tears from her reddened face. ‘Are you alright Jemma?’ He asked while fiddling with the hem if his t-shirt.

‘Yeah Fitz, I’m fine’, she lied through a tight smile. He raised an eyebrow at her, but to no avail. She simply turned back to the task at hand and tsked her efforts, ‘damn it, I over mixed the butter!’ She made to pull the whisk out of the bowl, but forgot to switch it off beforehand and the counter top was spattered with the mixture. Pulling the plug from the outlet, Jemma let out a sigh and scraped her hands through her hair as more tears began to fall.

Fitz stepped further into the room, unsure of what exactly to do, but knowing he had to do something. He also figured that there wasn’t much he could say to make the situation any worse. ‘What happened?’

‘Well I forgot to turn off the bloody mixer, didn’t I?’ She countered, Fitz didn’t bat an eye, knowing that she hadn’t meant to snap. There was clearly something bigger happening. He just stepped even further into the room, to her apparent surprise, and braced himself on the opposite side of the island. He nodded at her to elaborate if she wished, but he was staying put. If not to comfort her, then he was at least getting something to alleviate his hunger.

He wasn’t standing in silence for long though, the flood gates opened and Jemma laid bare her conscience. ‘I’m not sure that me coming here was a good idea. I’ve spent the last few years living at university, I only got to see my parents on the odd weekend visit.’

So she was homesick, or at least sort of. Fitz was jolted for a moment with the worry that if she was that upset, there was a possibility she may leave early.

‘Then the first chance I get to spend time with them, I up and leave for the summer. And this time not just 2 hours away. I’m on a different _continent_ , Fitz. My mom called today’, Jemma explained, tears flowing freely down her face. ‘She told me that she wanted to check in while my dad was away at a conference. She sounded so lonely and it’s all _my fault_ , they’ve done so much to give me what I have and I’m never there to thank them’. Her words were beginning to run together, turning into barely coherent squeaks with how frantic she was.

Fitz slowly walked around the island in the middle of the kitchen, inching his way closer to where Jemma was shaking on the spot, still berating herself. ‘And it’s not going to change any time soon, I don’t know where I’ll be studying next year but it sure as hell won’t be Sheffield! This summer, I just wanted to do something for me, turn my attention to something I love, something I could do for _fun_. And I just don’t know why the only thing I could think of, meant abandoning my parents, just before I do it _again_ for school’.

He stopped about 2 foot short of where she was standing. She finished with an almighty sob that Fitz felt tug at his chest, it physically pained him to see Jemma so distraught. He opened his arms to her and just hoped that she wouldn’t refuse.

 

* * *

 

 Fitz was standing with his arms outstretched in front of Jemma. She wanted to move but she was glued to the spot, guilt weighing her down, she let out an involuntary hiccup and he moved tentatively toward her. She closed her eyes and stared down at her feet.

A few seconds later, Jemma was consumed by warmth, the comforting embrace of Fitz stepping around her, sheltering her. He lifted a hand to nestle the back of her head, his hand sinking into her bed hair. She’d tried to sleep, but gave up after a few hours of tossing and turning, to sneak down to the kitchen. She’d always had a penchant for stress baking.

Moving with Fitz’s gentle touch, she rested her forehead to his shoulder, and Jemma finally found the energy to clasp her hands behind his back. There was a brief moment when she thought she’d hurt him by not reacting, but she was numb, and he knew it somehow. She cringed as she felt the build-up of grime; from god knows how long spent slaving over bowls of dough. But she was calmed as she felt Fitz’s relaxing exhale, possibly sigh of relief, ghosting over the top of her head.

‘Jemma, it’s normal to feel homesick, but feeling _this_ guilty about it and shouldering that burden by yourself…. It isn’t healthy’. Even after struggling for the words, Fitz seemed displeased with Jemma’s response, so he continued. ‘You know, I haven’t been back to Scotland in a year?’

Jemma moved her clutch to his hips and swayed back on her heels to look up at him. She was certain that her face spelled the question, but she still felt the need to ask, ‘Wh- why not?’

‘Well, Mum couldn’t afford to send me to university, so we were dependant on scholarship offers. Of which, there were plenty.’ Through his eyes, Jemma could pin point every emotion swirling around in him; embarrassment, giddy pride… then a cloudiness crossed his features and she felt compelled to settle back into his body.

But suddenly, it was as though she were holding Fitz, as he grew slightly more rigid and huffed out a breath. ‘I could have chosen any one I wanted, but I went with the offer furthest from home, from my mum’. Jemma turned her head so that she was nuzzling his chest and Fitz wrapped his arms around her once again. It was the first time that he told Jemma anything remotely personal, the first time she could say that he let his guard down. She liked it. Up until now the only physical contact they’d had outside of the water was brushing fingertips and touching shoulders. This intimacy was something she’d only wondered about having with him.

They stood there like that for a few minutes, Fitz tracing her spine with his thumb as he rubbed her back. Suddenly he gripped her by the shoulders, much like the first time they met in the canteen. Her gaze gravitated upwards and she was met with a defiant stare, there was a set to his jaw, almost stern, but cancelled out by the gentle hold he kept on her. ‘Jemma, I feel bad about that decision sometimes, but then I think of how my mum would look at me if I stayed, when she’d remember _why_ I was there. Because she’d have been holding me back, through no fault of her own’.

Fitz took a deep breath and pushed on, ‘and I also know, that I would feel infinitely disappointed in myself if I thought I was causing her that grief. That’s why, no matter how often we miss each other, we know that there’s a bigger reason for it. We’re making that sacrifice for _each other_ ’. He looked resolved as he said it, like he knew exactly how hard it was.

‘Allow your parents to make that sacrifice, allow them to feel lonely, if it means at the end of all this, you’re graced with the proudest smile they’ve have ever given you. They won’t hold you to that feeling, they don’t want that guilt for you. Do you understand?’ Jemma was so distracted swimming in his eyes, and touched at the effort he was making for her, that she wasn’t quite sure what she was agreeing to. But Fitz looked so steadfast in what he was asking, that she felt the only way to respond to him, was to nod and bury herself back into his body.

Catching sight of the oven clock out of the corner of her eye, Jemma mumbled into his shirt, ‘Fitz, why are you down here?’

‘Oh, em… I was hungry’, he hesitated.

She peered up at him quizzically, ‘have you ever considered that you might by hypoglycaemic?’ Fitz looked shocked at her reply, he’d probably been expecting her to scold his untimely, but in this case, perfectly timely hunger. Then he was amused for a minute, but raised his eyebrows in surrender, as soon as she started to protest her reasons for thinking so.

 

* * *

 

An hour later the kitchen was almost unrecognisable, the only sign it had been used was the glow cast around the room through the oven doors, which would be gone in twenty minutes according to the egg timer sat between Jemma and Fitz. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the common room couch, a tub of vanilla ice-cream balanced on their touching knees and a plate of apple pie each. They were watching re-runs of _Dr. Who_ on _BBC America_ , with the volume muted of course, so that they could talk. Jemma could only speak for herself, but she suspected that Fitz didn’t need the volume either to know what was happening in the episode.

‘W-w-wait, what kind of battery?’ Jemma plonked her spoon back into the bowl and raised her hands to halt Fitz in his ramblings. She was trying to follow what he was saying, but was somehow convinced she wasn’t hearing him properly.

‘I don’t _know_ Jemma, a lithium ion battery’, she could tell he was trying to downplay his creation, because there was no way he thought _that’s_ what she was asking. After quirking a challenging brow, he relented, ‘it used to only hold a quarter of its current capacity, then I conducted a breathing system around it so that I could quadruple the scale. It holds a terawatt now.’

Jemma’s eyes almost dropped from her skull, ‘a te- Fitz, you can’t brush that off as if it’s nothing…. That’s _genius_!’ She could tell he was bothered by the blush creeping its way up his face, but that didn’t stop her amazement as her mind ran with the concept. A battery that could house the collective energy used to power the _planet for a year._

The possibilities were limitless. Just then, one of those possibilities crossed her mind and she couldn’t contain the laughter. ‘What?’

‘Nothing, I was just thinking that with my crystalline nucleation system-‘

‘A weather machine? Seriously Jemma?’ She was taken a-back, not only because he was dismissing her incredible collaboration idea, but also because he’d reached the same conclusion just as fast.

‘I know, I’m just talking nonsense…. so go on then, enlighten me with your boringly sensical doctorate plans.’ Jemma reached forward placing the tub of ice-cream and her bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch, she was only wearing shorts and could feel the goose bumps spreading up her thighs. She then turned to face him, hugging her knees to her chest, chin resting on top. Just because Jemma asked it sarcastically did not mean she didn’t care. The more Fitz spoke, the more of an enigma he became, and that was an entirely new experience for Jemma; one she wished to continue.

He’d looked disappointed for a second at the change in position. She grinned into the crook of her elbow at the thought, as Fitz rearranged himself, crossing his ankles and resting his heels on the coffee table. ‘Well I think I’ll stay where I am’, it struck Jemma then that she didn’t exactly know where, _where I am_ , was.

‘They’re offering funding so I can bring in a partner, someone else on the doctoral programme.’ That was something she was happy to hear, if anyone understood what it was like to be stuck in a lab, by themselves, for 16 hours a day; it was Jemma Simmons. Another engineer would give him some company. ‘Then, outside of university grants, I’ve managed to secure a backer. They want me to develop a particular design of mine’, not for the first time that night, Jemma’s jaw dropped. Industry funding? Remarkable, was the only word to enter her mind.

‘The only catch is I have to keep their ‘donation’ anonymous, which shouldn’t be too hard. There’s also the possibility of a contract at the end of it, for both myself and my partner. That is, if I ever manage to find one.’ Shaking her head, Jemma reached out to squeeze Fitz’s shoulder. If not to purge him of doubt, then at least to convey her congratulations; because that was _one hell of a plan_.

However, he didn’t seem to notice, or was trying not to notice, the support she was giving as he shifted away from her. Jemma was about to ask the question on the tip of her tongue, when he carried on, ‘do you know what you’ll be working on yet?’

And just like that, it was her turn to retreat. She withdrew her hand from Fitz’s shoulder and wrapped it around her neck, scratching at an itch that didn’t seem to be there. ‘That all hinges on where I end’, she managed through a sigh.

‘I’ve had offers, I just want to sort my priorities first’, she said, feeling the tears prick the back of her eyelids, she clenched them shut so as not to enable the waterworks.

‘Hey Jemma, it’s okay you’ve spoken enough tonight’, he assured, smiling at her. She really had, and that was a luxury she hadn’t had for a long time.

‘C’mon we should go check on the cookies before they burn’. Jemma glanced down at the still ticking egg timer resting on the couch. She crinkled her nose at it in amusement and peered back up at Fitz, who was now faced fully away from her, stacking their ice-cream bowls on the table. Jemma realised then that she was going to have to spell her feelings out to him.

Fitz turned back to face her, offering a hand up. However, instead of using his grip to get up from the couch, Jemma used it to hoist herself up to her knees, and pull him down toward her. For a split second it crossed her mind that Fitz putting space between them all weekend, might not have been awkwardness; but lack of interest.

Then, she saw the look of desire written plainly across his face, and any insecurity she felt was swept away.

As their faces neared, each of them closed their eyes and their lips finally slotted together.

It was tentative at first, neither quite ready to test the others’ boundaries. The nerves in the pit of Jemma’s stomach were quelled the instant she locked lips with Fitz. Although the same couldn’t be said for him, as his thought process was mostly comprised from a mixture of ‘fucking hell this is happening’, and ‘shit, I’m going to squish her’.

Just then he propped a knee on top of the couch cushion. Given the added height of Fitz towered over her body, the kiss was deepened. Jemma’s nails scraped the nape of his neck as she twined her fingers through the tight curls there. The reassurance of her actions steeled him enough to dart his tongue between her lips.

Jemma could barely contain herself; but the second she felt the sting of Fitz catching her bottom lip between his teeth, she gave up trying. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped, as he placed a soothing kiss to the corner of her mouth. Stretching her hand to span the back of his neck, she pulled him further down on top of herself. At the same time, Fitz’s firm hands were rested on Jemma’s back, keeping her steady and close as he lowered her onto the throw cushions.

Jemma trailed her hand around to cup his jaw, once again, finding the stubble she felt was worn so well on him; and that she also hoped would wear well on her. Fitz broke the kiss, much to Jemma’s dismay, she had to bite back her groans of protest. But the second a tantalising kiss was placed right below her ear, she forgave him for the moment of separation. She threw her head back over the arm of the sofa, as frenzied as the wet kisses being puckered along her neck.

Fitz peered up, searching Jemma’s face for any signs that she wanted to slow down; but he found the solace he needed in her eyes, irises growing black with wanton. Taking heed of this, Fitz ducked back down and proceeded to map the constellation of freckles across Jemma’s chest.

This was much to her apparent approval, she let out a keening moan when her cami top was edged downwards and Fitz traced the hem of her bra with his tongue. Jemma hitched her legs up, locking her ankles around Fitz’s hips, at the same time lifting hers to grind into him. This elicited a groan from Fitz, because as much as he anticipated Jemma’s effect on him, he hadn’t been expecting the contact.

The manoeuvre pulled Jemma’s cami so far out of the way, that Fitz recognised, to his joy, the bra she wore to the club. It was only with his newfound clarity of her feelings that Fitz realised Jemma’s nonchalance at being caught, might not have been as natural as he’d thought.

Jemma skimmed her hands down Fitz’s torso, barely grazing the skin below his shirt, before she slid her hands under the waistband at either side of his hips.

But the pair were abruptly torn from their antics as they heard the egg timer erupt from somewhere below Jemma, they both began to frantically fish between the sofa cushions to silence it. Fitz was the one to find it first, fumbling to switch it off as he pulled himself off Jemma, sitting up in the centre of the couch.

She followed, quickly pressing her knuckles to her kiss swollen lips, anxious to stunt the laughter rising in her.

‘Come on, _now_ we actually have to check the cookies!’ Jemma narrowed her eyes at Fitz as she pressed a guiding hand to his chest, she gave him a nudge so that he sat back onto the sofa.

Jemma swung a securing leg over Fitz, she scrunched her lips together when he gave her a bemused look. ‘And I thought I had issues prioritising’, she teased, grinding down on him while twisting her fingers through the curls on the back of his head.

Deciding she looked too pleased with herself, Fitz bit down on the inside of his cheek, so as not to giveaway the fact he had indeed surrendered the upper hand in this scenario, to Jemma. She began dotting kisses around his face, settling eventually into a languid, heated kiss, square on the lips. In that moment Fitz struggled to keep up with every manipulation Jemma was managing, but his focus was namely on one task. That of her hands.

They were working expertly under his shirt, clearly putting her knowledge of the nervous system to the test. Again, Jemma teasingly snuck her fingers below the waistband of Fitz’s boxers, tracing from his hips to where they met in the middle, sending him excruciatingly close to the edge as she ground down deeper onto his crotch.

Pulling her hands back around to the side, Jemma began to tug his shirt upwards, and dragging it up over Fitz’s head, he obligingly lifted his arms to help her. She trailed the tip of her nails along the inside of his arms, causing every nerve ending in his body to stand on end.

She leant forward to resume the kiss she’d just broken, as soon as the lower half of Fitz’s face was freed of its constraints. The angle her hips held over his changed, causing her to moan into his mouth, vibrations tingling his lips.

Trying to downplay the effect she was having on him, when they came apart for air, Fitz challenged, ‘that’s great really Jem, but cookies are beckoning’.

‘I swear, you’re the dumbest genius I’ve ever met’, she huffed, pulling her cami up over her head. And Fitz finally got to toy unabashedly with the silk front-tie that had been haunting his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

 It was another few days before there was any mention of Jemma’s future plans. Except this time it was from Bobbi. Fitz had conceded that he didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for, so when Bobbi tested the waters at a time that could only be considered ungodly, he was prepared for some backlash.

‘Again? Bob, I told you when I have a decision, or news, or anything on the school front; you’ll be the first people I tell’. Jemma’d said that last part staring keenly into Fitz’s eyes, from the opposite side of the table, and he felt compelled to believe every word she was saying.

Bobbi turned to Trip, seemingly looking for back up, but out of the corner of his eye, Fitz could see that his roommate was shaking his head, ever so slightly.

Letting out a puff of breath, Bobbi turned back to face Jemma, ‘I’m just worried about you okay? And I don’t want you to think there’s no one you can talk to. Do you have any stand-out options?’ She’d definitely taken a subtler approach after seeing Jemma tense. After the other night, Fitz knew better than anyone that she didn’t like to be a burden on people. And that included being a worry for them.

Dropping her cutlery and her shoulders, Jemma finally glanced up from her breakfast. ‘Yeah there’s definitely one, and I’d take it in a heartbeat if it weren’t so far from anywhere- _anyone_ I consider home’, she looked defeated and Fitz could see her hand begin to tremble, so he instinctually reached out to hold it, feeling it grow still in his.

‘Where is it?’ Bobbi tested, looking pained at having to interrogate Jemma like this. He knew it was better in the long run for her to have this weight off her chest, Fitz just didn't want to be the one to coax it out of her.

‘Massachusetts,’ he couldn’t help the flood of disappointment that overcame him, just knowing that she could be so much closer, it would make it all the more difficult to part ways in 4 weeks’ time. ‘An old professor of mine, Dr. Hall, said with his recommendation and my experience with dendrotoxins, that any candidate would jump to have me on a non-lethal weaponry start-up.’

Fitz began to choke on his breakfast, he dragged his hand from hers so he could block the coughs and splutters coming from him. But the concern on Jemma’s face was swiftly replaced with realisation as Trip asked, ‘isn’t that what you were doodling last night? Designs for some knock-out gun?’

‘Night-night gun’, he corrected through his coughs and shaky nods.

‘It’s _your_ start-up-’ Jemma muttered as she stared through the table, looking shell shocked.

It went against every fibre in his body, but Fitz needed her to know, that it wasn’t going to be held against her, if she didn’t want to uproot her entire life. ‘There’s nothing to discuss’, she snapped her head up as he said it, brow furrowed and Fitz felt the need to explain his opposition. ‘You want to be closer to the people you love; so there’s really nothing to discuss Jemma’.

She looked at him intently, for what felt like an eternity, expression giving nothing away, until she mercifully broke her silence, ‘maybe there... is’.

Fitz felt his eyes widen at her response, and the breath he’d apparently been holding finally escaped his chest. _Did she just imply what he thought?_  

Then Trip let out a long whistle, making it clear to Fitz that he and Jemma, were in fact _not_ the only people at the table. But it didn’t stay that way for long. As he heard a dull thump from under the table, quickly followed by Bobbi and Trip moving to the other side of the canteen.

‘So?’ Jemma questioned, as if she didn’t already know her consideration would be met with a resounding yes.

‘So, dendrotoxin?’ Fitz was almost giddy when he saw her grin and shake her head in response, causing the blush to fall from her features.

She poised her lips into a thin line and challenged, ‘no no no, first things first; we are not calling it the night-night gun!’ He tried to stare her down, she’d been on board with this project for all of 40 seconds, and already she was changing _the vision_. But he relented; Fitz didn't think there was anything he could deny Jemma Simmons.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your gift and I hope a few others did too (leave a comment and let me know what you thought, if you're not one of the two people obliged to read this). Playlist to come on 8tracks. 
> 
> afitzsimmonsblog will have the second part of this fic on her ao3 account (full_time_dreamer_behold) when it's ready and it's hilarious. 
> 
> But I can't go without saying that this gift was going to be no more than 4K and a distraction from my exams. It became so much more because of Nora's encouraging words and Clo feeding my headcanons. It is also because of her that I can say with absolute certainty, taking part in this exchange was one of the best spur of the moment decisions I've ever made and I've had the time of my life fighting dragons with you ;)


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